Cross Blades

Cross Blades

Chapter the Fourteenth: Habit’s Chains


“You can’t go on like this,” Piro ‘Kipaz insisted as he paced the small cabin that he and N’tho shared. “Moping around. Not eating. Taking no interest in anything.”

“Look,” N’tho retorted, “unless you can get Shipmaster ‘Gamul and SpecOps Commander ‘Otsed to fuck off, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. Because I’m a Minor Domo, and they’re ranking officers, and they’re pushing their authority right up to the limits, and the Arbiter seems too preoccupied to rein them in.” ‘Kipaz looked at him, and there was something in Piro’s expression, something very like hopelessness and helplessness, that gave N’tho pause. “They were here last night, weren’t they?”

Piro nodded slowly. “It was Rycl ‘Otsed. He wanted to know why you weren’t here in your quarters.”

N’tho sighed. “I was sleeping in Fil’s stockroom again.” He stared down into his lap. “’Gamul and ‘Otsed don’t dare try anything when I’m at work—too many witnesses. But they’re just waiting for their chance to get me alone.”

“Are you sleeping in the Quartermaster’s stockroom tonight, too?”

“Can’t. The place is starting to get my scent in it from all the time I’ve spent there, and Fil said her Grunts overheard Rycl talking to ‘Gamul about it. I don’t want Fil getting in trouble for my mistake.” He toyed with his armour, seeking distraction. “I’m going to have to find somewhere else to sleep so ‘Gamul can’t find me.”

Piro flexed his mandibles. “The Arbiter asked for some volunteers from the 812th to go with him once we drop out of Slipspace tomorrow.”

“Are you going?”

“No. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

N’tho shook his head. “Thanks, Piro, but…I can’t really ask you to get in trouble for me either. You’re not the one who mated with Rycl and you’re not the reason ‘Gamul is such a possessive son of a Brute.”

“You are my…friend, N’tho. I will protect you with my life.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” N’tho hung his head, and asked, “You haven’t seen the Blademaster, have you?”

“What is this business you have with the Blademaster, N’tho?” Piro asked.

N’tho, unable to hold back the tears any longer, told him.

*

Usze ‘Taham, fully cloaked, sat in the shadows at the back of the hangar bay and watched N’tho ‘Sraom shining his armour. He pressed “send” on his comm unit to transmit a message to the house of his mother and stepfather. His family would have to publically denounce him in order to escape his coming punishment. His message begged them to do it. He did not want them in the Ascetics’ crosshairs.

There was a time when Usze himself would have been in full agreement with the Ascetics. Weed out the weak; keep the bloodlines strong. Crush the humans, the Unggoy, the Kig-Yar, the Yanme’e, for no other reason than because they could. Let the shamed be punished; let the lower castes earn their survival with servitude, or let them die as they deserved. Kill the moderate Arbiter and put the hardliner Xytan ‘Jar Wattin in control of Sanghelios.

N’tho had changed all that.

Nitro did not deserve what had happened to him. He was a courageous warrior despite the fact that his grandfather had been a coward. His more outrageous faults appeared to stem from his treatment after receiving the Mark of Punishment. Usze doubted Nitro would have become so promiscuous and crude and loud had he not been treated so badly.

Then there was Chief Quartermaster Fil Storamy, who, for all she was bad-tempered, had been restricted in her professional choices simply by virtue of being female. Were the rumours true—did her skill with a blade rival his? If it did, she belonged in a battle unit, not a storeroom.

And then there were the Humans. No, they were no match for a Sangheili one-on-one, but they were brave and tenacious and clever, and their teamwork outstripped the Sangheili, who were so often focused on individual heroism—or glorious deaths—that they forgot to watch their brothers’ backs. There was much to admire about the Humans, though tradition taught Sangheili to revile all other species.

These revelations did not even begin to approach what Nitro had taught him about the nature of love—not merely that of one being for another, but as an approach to living itself. To show grace to his fellow creatures. To understand and to forgive and to try to become better. To fail and to pick oneself up and then to try again. To sacrifice a cold and selfish pride for the betterment of all.

The Ascetics were wrong.

Oh, and how he wanted to run to Nitro and tell his hero what was happening. He wanted to bury his snout in his mate’s chest and weep for their too-brief past and their short-lived future.

But he could not. How selfish would it be to make Nitro share in the punishment he knew he had coming? Nitro had suffered enough for someone else’s decisions.

Usze ‘Taham had never expected that love might mean learning to let go.

Uzi awoke from his reverie when a blue-armoured shape darted up to Nitro. “Hey, how’s it going?” the other Sangheili asked. Uzi felt a flare of jealousy when he recognized Ki ‘Chaz.

“Okay,” N’tho said dully.

“Me and some of the guys are going to practice sword fighting. Want to help us? I mean, since you just requalified for your blade and everything.”

N’tho paused, thinking. “Not right now.” He returned to his armour, then looked up. “Thanks, Ki.”

“Maybe some other time?” Ki asked hopefully.

“Sure.”

Uzi realized he should be feeling happier as he watched the other SpecOps warrior walk away. Ki’s request had not been sexual. But there was something about Nitro that was bothering him.

N’tho was usually boisterous, passionate, larger-than-life. Today he seemed strangely subdued. He polished the same spot on his armour over and over again, although it already gleamed with a mirror shine.

Does he miss me? Usze wondered.

The pull on his hearts was more painful than Usze could ever have dreamed. He felt physical agony at resisting the chance to approach Nitro.

But if he did…if he revealed himself to Nitro…they would kill him. They would kill his beautiful mate. Usze could survive any torment as long as he knew that Nitro was safe.

And so, as Usze walked out of the room, he concentrated on his fear, his grief, his love. He let them build, until they hurt, until the pain seared his soul, and he reveled in them as every breath became agony and every heartbeat became hell…and then, at the verge of breaking, he felt a numbness growing inside him. The sensation expanded, swallowing his emotion, tamping it down into a dark little box in the corner of his soul, and he slammed the lid and locked it.

He might be a traitor, but Usze ‘Taham was still an Ascetic at heart, and he would not let his foolish emotions endanger the one thing he loved in this life.

*

N’tho polished the armour spot over and over until he became aware of another figure approaching him. He looked up, then rose to his feet and saluted the newly promoted SpecOps subcommander, Vaa ‘Moiril.

Half of SpecOps had been lost on the Infinite Succor mission, including Rtas ‘Vadum’s first bondmate, Subcommander Kusovai. The other Subcommander, Rycl ‘Otsed, had been left behind from Infinite Succor; with Rtas’ new promotion to Admiral, Rycl had become the new SpecOps commander. Rycl had then chosen new Subcommanders: one of them was Vaa, the other was an older warrior named Tek ‘Uliq.

“We’ll be dropping out of Slipspace tomorrow,” Vaa said. “The Arbiter has requested some SpecOps warriors to accompany him and Admiral ‘Vadum on a mission.”

“Am I on it?”

“No.”

N’tho wasn’t sure whether he felt disappointed or relieved. Part of him would have welcomed any distraction; another part was certain that he’d get himself killed when his mind wandered away from the mission and back to Usze’s unexplained absence.

“No, Subcommander ‘Uliq will be taking a handful of warriors. You and I are going to be remaining here, with the new rookies. Tomorrow we will begin training them. But tonight…both of us have the night off.” Vaa gave N’tho a sly smile.

N’tho looked at Vaa and hesitated.

He’d heard a lot about Vaa from the other SpecOps warriors, particularly the late Pti ‘Firog, who’d put a lot of information about Vaa into Nitro’s “Welcome to SpecOps” briefing. Vaa was, apparently, very close to being the SpecOps slut, with the primary difference being that Vaa insisted on being the dominant party in a relationship, every time. Pti ‘Firog had warned Nitro that if he didn’t like being mounted, he should decline Vaa’s advances.

Then Pti had leaned closer and whispered that those who declined Vaa’s advances missed out on some very nice experiences.

According to Pti, Vaa was a consummate gentleman, and though he had no interest in committed relationships, he was always very respectful and gracious towards his partners.

Now Vaa was looking at N’tho and Nitro had to admit, some of Pti’s more detailed explanations were ringing in his head.

The words “I’m busy” quivered on the edge of N’tho’s mandibles and died.

By the Rings, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life like this. He’d spent the Earth-to-Slipspace flight checking his comm link for messages from Usze about twice every minute, only to be disappointed every time. He’d spent the Slipspace flight up till now worrying about ‘Gamul, worrying about Usze, worrying about Zhaal, worrying about Piro worrying about him…

He had nowhere else to sleep tonight.

And he still hadn’t heard anything from Uzi.

The Subcommander apparently considered N’tho’s silence to be stretching on too long. “Do you have a consort, then?” ‘Moiril asked.

“No,” N’tho mumbled. Usze had made it very clear that he was not the consort type.

“Do you find me unappealing?”

“No,” N’tho said, because yes would be a terrible lie. Vaa was classically handsome in all the right ways; he could be a statue gracing a temple on Sanghelios. Not like Blademaster ‘Taham, with his mismatched eyes and his lean, subtle musculature and his broad, exotic muzzle…

I want Usze.

Well, he argued with himself, you’re not going to get Usze, are you? Usze isn’t here. Uzi could be anywhere, and he hasn’t even bothered to comm you to let you know where he is or even that he’s okay. That ought to show you how much you mean to Usze.

You just don’t want to realize that Usze has charmed you, fucked you, and left you.

That’s right, you idiot, you let it happen to you again.

Vaa ‘Moiril was making a clear offer, with no pretenses of long-term involvement. It would be a night of entertaining distraction, and then it would end, and N’tho would know exactly where he stood with Vaa.

“Well then,” the Subcommander said, his eyes shining, “would you like to spend the night with me?”

If he spent the night in Vaa’s room, he wouldn’t have to worry about Epse ‘Gamul finding him.

If Vaa wore him out, he might get a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t slept well since Earth.

If Vaa was as good as Pti had said, Nitro might actually spend a few minutes not thinking about missing Uzi.

“Yes,” N’tho ‘Sraom said, and took Vaa’s hand.

*

Usze had spent most of the journey from Earth to Sanghelios hiding in his storeroom lair. The Arbiter had offered him a private stateroom, but Usze had declined. The Blademaster was still convinced that the Ascetics, or Admiral ‘Jar Wattin, had a sympathizer aboard the ship. If an empty room remained empty too long, or if food was delivered to that room…such a small thing could tip the sympathizer-spy off that Usze had given his allegiance to the Arbiter. As long as he remained concealed, the spy would believe that he was biding his time for the kill.

Soon, though, there would be no more time to hide. When Shadow of Intent had emerged from Slipspace eight hours ago, the Arbiter and Admiral ‘Vadum had departed on a Phantom for the Ascetic Temple. They took two other Phantoms full of warriors with them for backup. When the Arbiter confronted the Ascetics with their treachery, they would know that Usze had failed. And they would send their killer.

Usze sat on an empty crate, changing the battery in his armour. His cloaking shields were losing power too quickly; he suspected he’d simply worn out the battery by cloaking so often and forcing the battery to recharge over and over again. Now he sat in the dark, empty hold, trying to fix the problem with a fresh battery. He wished he was better with tools. Nitro could have done this in a minute or less….

The Blademaster was so absorbed with his task that he did not hear the door open. He was rudely awakened by a voice near at hand asking, “Are you Usze ‘Taham?”

Uzi felt adrenaline spike through his system as he heard the voice coming from behind him, somewhere in the darkness. An assassin who would call attention to himself in this manner was the type who would challenge Usze to a duel rather than strike at him from hiding. And anyone who would willingly challege the Blademaster was probably someone who thought he could win.

Usze turned around, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly in his hand.

There was a movement in the shadows; then a figure coalesced out of the darkness. Standing before him was an old Sangheili dressed in faded red Major Domo armour. Neither of his hands held a weapon, though there was a plasma rifle in a holster on his leg. Usze almost laughed before he realized that he might be underestimating his opponent. Could this be the warrior the Ascetics had sent to kill him? The old soldier’s back was beginning to stoop with age, and his muzzle was marred with countless wrinkles, though his eyes were still shiny and bright.

“I am,” Usze replied.

The old warrior’s jaws clicked as he took a limping step forward. “Usze ‘Taham, the Blademaster,” he mused, and then he jerked his head up and snarled, “you are one cowardly son of a Jackal.”

Usze found himself taken aback. The crazy old man had not drawn a weapon on him, but nobody insulted his honour like that! Ever since ascending to the rank of Blademaster, nobody had ever dared. To have survived the battle of the Omega Halo only to have his courage questioned in this manner was unthinkable.

“Who in the seven rings of hell are you?”

“Piro ‘Kipazee,” the old warrior replied, drawing himself up straight, but Usze could tell he was frightened. His eyes were glassy, his mandibles were trembling and he’d given the old Covenant form of his name…

Covenant loyalist? Could there be Sangheili who still thought the Prophets were right?

No. Usze knew that name.

Piro ‘Kipaz.

N’tho’s friend.

He hadn’t expected Piro to be so old. Piro had to be sixty if he was a day, probably over the elective retirement age for military service and closing fast on mandatory retirement. Another, completely irrelevant thought crossed his mind: had N’tho been telling the truth when he claimed that he and Piro had never mated? Hard on its heels was that twisting surge of sick heat that N’tho had told him was called jealousy.

“N’tho forgot to mention that you were crazy,” Usze snarled. “You walk up to me and spit out an insult like that? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Piro replied with a hiss, “that you are embarrassed to let the rest of this ship know of your…intimate association with N’tho. Now you hide down here in the dark.”

Usze was flabbergasted. How did this old bastard know about that?

A creeping voice in the back of his brain told him that Piro’s guess was not an unreasonable one. Uzi hadn’t approved of N’tho being put on the Arbiter’s honour guard. He had written a scathing letter to Rtas ‘Vadum to express that opinion. He had lied to Ki ‘Chaz and Aj ‘Qorop and the red Major Domo rather than admit what he and Nitro had been up to in that stream on the Ark. Was Piro right? Was he ashamed of N’tho? Was this business with the Ascetics just an excuse to hide the real reason he hadn’t returned to see ‘Sraom?

Then he imagined an Ascetic warrior driving a sword through N’tho’s guts and felt his guts twist into knots at the thought.

“No!” Usze blurted.

Piro nodded, pretending to consider. “There is another possible answer,” the old warrior said. His eyes narrowed ferally. “That you were lying to him when you told him you cared for him.”

‘Taham’s mandibles gaped. Piro seemed to have no sense of propriety; he accused Usze without a care for the consequences of his words.

“So which are you, Blademaster?” Piro persisted. “A coward, or a liar?”

Only the knowledge that Piro was N’tho’s friend kept Usze from beating the old warrior black and blue. Instead he growled, “Let me ask you, Piro, if you care for someone, would you willingly bring assassins to their door? Would you risk that person’s life because you are selfish and don’t want to be alone? Would you pull your dear one down with you?”

Piro had the good graces to flinch as Usze continued his tirade.

“I betrayed the Ascetic Order. They wanted me to commit….assassination. Mutiny. Treason. My life is in danger and so is Nitro’s if the Ascetic Order ever even guesses that they could get to me by hurting him.” He grabbed ‘Kipaz by the shoulders. “Do you understand? They can kill me if they must but they will not lay hands on him.”

Piro seemed to deflate in Usze’s grip; the Major Domo’s manic fire faded, leaving him a battered, beaten old man. “Understood, Blademaster,” ‘Kipaz whispered, and turned away. Usze let him pull himself from the Blademaster’s grip. Piro reached to his hip and gripped the handle of his plasma rifle as he limped away.

Why was Piro taking up his weapon now? The gesture filled Usze with unease. He felt driven to ask ‘Kipaz his intentions. “Where are you going?”

“To tell N’tho I have found him a private place to sleep. And then, to get myself killed,” the old Sangheili said brokenly.

Usze shook his head, trying to make sense of the bizarre encounter. He struggled to put aside his own ego and overlook the anger he felt at Piro’s lack of respect for his rank. Clearly the old soldier was worried about Nitro, worried enough to spit insults at a superior officer…and if he really was Nitro’s friend, then Nitro wouldn’t want him to get hurt.

“Killed? By who?” Surely Piro wasn’t going after the Ascetics’ assassins, was he? How could he be? He hadn’t even known the reason that Usze hadn’t contacted N’tho….

“I’m going to duel the Shipmaster,” Piro whispered. “Before he comes after N’tho again.”

“The Shipmaster?”

Rtas ‘Vadum had been the Shipmaster, but since he and the Arbiter had returned to Sanghelios to confront the Ascetics in their Temple, the title “Shipmaster” would pass to the warrior actually in charge of the ship. And that would be the Executive Officer….

“Epse ‘Gamul,” Usze hissed.

Piro nodded. “General ‘Vadum told N’tho that ‘Gamul was the one who put those pictures and videos of Nitro up on the BattleNet.”

Usze clicked his teeth inside his helmet. The explanation made perfect sense. As Executive Officer of Shadow of Intent—Shipmaster in Rtas ‘Vadumee’s absence—‘Gamul would have access to all the security footage. He also outranked Usze, which explained why he could hide from Usze that he was the one who posted it on the BattleNet.

“Why?” Usze growled.

“My guess,” Piro said dully, “is that Epse hoped Rtas would see that footage, be completely disgusted by it, and throw N’tho out of SpecOps. But no matter what Rtas thinks of N’tho’s behavior, SpecOps is too short on warriors right now for him to kick N’tho out.”

‘Taham folded his arms. “Frankly I’d be surprised if he kicks N’tho out, ever. First, Epse is presuming Rtas didn’t read N’tho’s personal files. I know Rtas is more thorough than that. Secondly, Epse forgets that Rtas’ consort has also mated with half the fleet, which makes me wonder, why does everyone seem to think Nitro is so dirty while envying the Arbiter for his virility and prowess?”

“Perhaps it’s the Mark of Punishment.”

“The Arbiter’s Mark of Shame is considerably larger and more ignomious. I think it’s more to do with rank, and attitude…”

“And the fact that the Arbiter doesn’t stoop for anyone,” Piro said quietly. “Except perhaps Rtas.”

Usze shook his head. “Forget the Arbiter. Why the hell did Rtas leave ‘Gamul in charge?”

“He didn’t. He left Zealot Shek ‘Jekow in charge—you know, the weapons officer.”

The back of Usze’s neck prickled. “Where’s ‘Jekow now?”

“Nobody knows. My guess is dead.” ‘Kipaz’s eyes were haunted. “Epse ‘Gamul is out of control. He’s the ranking officer on ship, and Rycl ‘Otsed is in charge of SpecOps now, and everything that Epse says, Rycl does…”

“And SpecOps does with him,” Usze said, thinking fast. “This is all related. The Arbiter and ‘Vadum go to fight the Ascetics. They know ‘Gamul’s done something inappropriate, but are reluctant to behead someone simply for messing with the cameras. They leave him in his rank while they decide what to do, but name someone else Shipmaster. But as soon as they’re gone, the Shipmaster disappears, ‘Gamul’s back in command, and his consort the SpecOps Commander is providing him with his own personal police force.” Usze clicked his teeth. “Where’s Nitro now?”

Piro tilted his head.

“Sorry. N’tho.”

“I told N’tho to stay in our quarters. ‘Gamul’s obsessed with him. Since the video trick failed, Epse has to think of a new way to get revenge, and it’s going to be ugly. Unfortunatley, N’tho is more than a little upset about someone here…” ‘Kipaz glared at ‘Taham “…and when I checked our quarters, he was gone. It’s only a matter of time before his path crosses ‘Gamul’s. Blademaster ‘Taham, someone has to look after N’tho.” He shot Usze a dirty glare. “It looks like it’s going to be me.” Piro reached slowly towards his belt and fingered the handle of his plasma rifle meaningfully.

Usze knew, with absolute certainty, that the old soldier was no match for Epse ‘Gamul.

“You can’t kill the Shipmaster. Piro, be reasonable.”

“Someone has to look after N’tho,” Piro repeated stubbornly. “Who is it—me or you? Sir?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Usze asked brokenly. “Do you think I haven’t wanted to come see Nitro? Protect him? Piro, the Ascetics would torture him…please tell me Epse wouldn’t be that bad…I mean, at least he would survive, right? Right?”

Piro’s eyes glittered. “You haven’t seen N’tho since Earth, have you?”

Usze felt his guts turn over. “What is wrong?”

‘Kipaz clenched his mandibles together. “N’tho’s changed. He spent the flight through Slipspace telling me over and over that you’d comm him when we decanted to realspace. He was withdrawn, keeping to himself, building models in his room, tinkering with things…but I didn’t mind that change, if it was keeping him out of the mess hall bar and other Sangheili’s quarters. Then we hit orbit around Sanghelios and he still hadn’t heard a word from you—no visits, not even a comm—and it was as though some switch flipped in his brain and he just went berserk.”

“Berserk how?” Usze asked, though he feared he already knew the answer.

“Taking his old vices to extremes.” Piro’s face was hard. “I know what despair looks like, Usze of the house of ‘Taham. N’tho is killing himself slowly. If it is because of you…if you succeeded in convincing him to trust you…then you had best take responsibility for what you have done, because if he continues on this way, he will die with or without you.”

“Piro, he would not want you dead either. Please. Don’t go after ‘Gamul on your own. We can work something out, but first I have to find him.”

‘Kipaz nodded. “You are right. He will not listen to me. Perhaps he will listen to you. Just be prepared what you will find.”

“Where is he?”

The Major Domo let out a breath. “I think if you check the mess hall, you may find someone who knows where he has gone.”

The mess hall. During the supper hour, it was a place to eat; the rest of the time, it was the Sangheili bar, a place where friends could blow off steam—or the ship’s Elite personnel could find partners looking for hookups. Usze felt sick all over again.

“Piro, I am going to find him and I am going to take care of him. Do not do anything foolish, do you understand?”

He did not wait for Piro’s reply. He had to trust the old warrior to make a reasonable choice. Right now, it seemed that every second he spent apart from N’tho was taking both of them further down a path to disaster.